


There's No One Left

by districtfourmermaid



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Backstory, Blackmail, F/F, Gen, Prostitution, Queer Johanna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4971736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/districtfourmermaid/pseuds/districtfourmermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Johanna's Games, she finds herself in a similar situation as Finnick had been: people in the Capitol like her. She definitely does not like them, but it seems she doesn't have a choice. Why is it that Johanna has no one left that she loves? (Written in 2014 and solely based on the books)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss visits Johanna in the District 13 hospital and gives her a bundle of pine needles. Johanna decides it's time to open up about her past.

Johanna Mason was lying in her bed in District 13, in the hospital recovering from her panic attack. The setting wasn’t helping her at all. She felt far more comfortable in her apartment, even if she did have to share it with Katniss Everdeen. At first, Johanna found the girl annoying as she attempted to salvage that sorry love story and stop the districts’ rebellion for Snow. It was annoying, she realized one day, not because it made Katniss weak or a stupid person, but because it was everything Johanna never got to do. Peeta’s place in Katniss’s life spared her and the people she cared about from ending up like Finnick and many other victors. Johanna had heard the horror stories. She had a story of her own. 

It was as she was remembering that Katniss walked in, back from a hunt, it appeared, for she was wearing her jacket and carrying a little paper pouch, probably with something dead inside. Katniss crossed the room to Johanna’s bed and held out the bundle.

“What’s that?” Johanna said hoarsely. Damp edges of her hair formed little spikes over her forehead. 

“I made it for you. Something to put in your drawer.” Katniss placed it in her hands. “Smell it.”

Johanna lifted the bundle to her nose and took a tentative sniff. “Smells like home.” Katniss began to speak, but stopped, seeing tears begin to glide over Johanna’s dark brown eyes, a place she’d never seen them before.

“Johanna, what’s wrong? I’m sorry, I would never have made this if I knew it would upset you.” She tried to take the bundle back, but Johanna only clutched it tighter and pressed it to her nose, squeezing her eyes tight while inhaling the scent to stop the forbidden tears. 

“No. I like it,” she snapped. Relaxing, she looked back at Katniss, “I never told you, Katniss, why Snow can’t—couldn’t--hurt me anymore.”

“You said there was no one left that you loved. I figured the rest was none of my business.”

“You’re darn right it’s none of your business.”

“I’m sorry?” Katniss wondered, confused.

“It’s not your business, but would you mind if I told you anyway?” Johanna explained. “You know, because I’m not supposed to censor my thoughts and all? I was just thinking about it, and I feel like telling someone, so, if you’d just sit there quietly and not interrupt, that’d be great.”

“Sure, yeah, I—“

“Ok, here it goes,” Johanna began. “I was sixteen when I won. Old enough to be smart and strong enough to win, but young enough to make my little show believable. You know how I detest weak people, so you can imagine how hard it was to pretend to be one. Winning, well, that was, surprisingly to all but some of the other victors, the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.

“Yes, I was able to come forward as the strong, fierce person that I am and quit the coward act, but… you know what happened to Finnick, right?”

“Yes, I do,” Katniss said, her voice steady, but without pity, for while she knew what was to come, she also knew Johanna. And Johanna could not stand to be pitied. Pity was for the weak.

“He had Annie and Mags. His family was gone before then—only child, dead parents, dead cousin, unloving aunt and uncle. Those two were the only ones he had, and he’s an emotional person. I can see why he would… submit to Snow’s orders to protect them, as I can see why you sold your image after your Games by keeping up the love show with Peeta to protect your people. But that… that sort of thing… it just isn’t for me.”

Johanna was silent for a few moments, but Katniss did not speak. Johanna had never opened up to her—maybe not to anyone—like this before, and it was clear she still had more to say. 

After a deep breath, she continued, “Fuck. Finnick and I have a few things in common, victory in the arena, subsequent fame, desirable traits, people we loved and wanted to protect, and of course, special time in the Capitol, if you catch my drift. But that’s where the similarities end. He has his emotional, protective, self-sacrificing nature. I’ve never been anything like him outside of cutting enemies down. I’m not good for people.

“So, finally, this is my story…”


	2. The Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johanna faces the hard truth that winning does not mean freedom from the Capitol.

The young victor collapsed on the stone ground, bloody axe still in hand, as it always was. Her last victim lay gasping next to her, not quite dead yet. After two weeks of barely scraping up what little food she could find in this barren landscape and battling it out with the final six tributes—the remaining four members of the career pack plus two others who’d made it that far—she was weak. Johanna had never felt weak in her entire life. Strength was her entire being, even when she was unarmed. Now, as she waited for this final enemy to putter out, she couldn’t find the will to lift her weapon one last time to end it. 

With a punctured and collapsing lung, the boy next to her struggled to breathe for a long time before the wheezing stopped and Johanna was met by the ladder of a hovercraft. Making herself stand, she grabbed a rung and let herself be carried up.

The next thing she knew, she was standing in front of an audience next to Caesar Flickermen, who was decked out in forest green hair and makeup. “To honor the victory she brought to her district, the district of trees,” he’d said. 

If he really wanted to honor my victory, she thought, he’d make it silver for my blade. Growing up, the people in Johanna’s life had looked at the victors with judgement. If they showed distain for their own actions in the three-hour replay of the Games or were indifferent, they were not worthy of their victory. But worse, if they cheered for themselves, proud of the deaths they served, they were despicable. Johanna, she was not reluctant to admit, was despicable. She tried not to show it, for the sake of those she cared about who would be watching her, but on the inside she laughed at the hardships of the other tributes in the first part of the Games, when she was still making herself out as a weakling. Once she saw herself get her hands on an axe and catch the surviving others unawares, she couldn’t suppress the grin. 

After the interview, she had a chance to speak with a certain past Victor, Finnick Odair. “Mason,” he said. He was one year older than her, having won three years previously at age fourteen. “You’d be Laramie’s older sister, then?”

“That’s right.” Laramie had been Johanna’s brother by a year, reaped for the Games at only twelve. “I don’t blame you. Only one of you was making it out alive anyway.”

“You don’t?” Finnick wondered. “But I betrayed him so quickly. He was the first I killed after I received that trident, my own ally.” When Johanna didn’t respond—she hated repeating herself—he leaned in to whisper something into her ear. “Beware the roses. They signal his presence.” And before she could ask, her escort and mentor came up from behind her and whisked her off to the train station.

Upon her return home, she was welcomed warmly at the train station by her people, but while she was happy to see her parents, her elder brother, and her few friends, more than anything, she wanted to run into the arms of that one person. And that is what she did.

She was more darkly complected than was usual for District 7, her skin slightly olive with long, dark hair. She almost looked like Katniss, in fact, Johanna would recall in later years, but for her caramel, District 7 brown eyes like tree bark and not being quite so dark as the Seam girl. This girl’s name was Park, and she was the love of Johanna’s young life. 

Every day for the first five months she was back home, Johanna, though she didn’t need to work anymore herself, visited the group of lumberjacks Park worked with. She distributed meals her mom had prepared and helped cut and move lumber without asking any pay, but most of her time there was spent watching Park work. She loved the way her muscular arms and torso looked as she swung her axe into the bark of a tree. She loved the way her face looked dewy with the sweat of working. She loved the blush that crossed Park’s cheeks when she got caught staring.

“Johanna, you know I can’t work with you distracting me like this,” Park told her one day in late November.

“And yet you do nothing to stop me,” Johanna said, moving close to Park. “You could tell me to leave. You know I wouldn’t, but you could try.”

“Who says I want to take that risk?” she answered, planting a kiss on Johanna’s lips. “Am I still coming over after work tonight?”

Johanna smiled, “Of course, if you want to.”

The two girls ran giddily into Johanna’s Victor’s mansion. She had the place to herself since her parents and brother were staying at their old home in the town. The Mason family didn’t want the luxury and Capitol vapidity the mansion would bring. 

But as the girls opened the front door, Johanna knew they were not alone. A dozen white roses sat in a vase in the middle of the front room floor. 

Johanna’s gasp was more like a hiss.

“What is it?” Park asked.

“Nothing, it’s just... Park, we can’t be together tonight. You should go home.”

“Ok…” Park hesitantly walked back, keeping her eyes on Johanna, who was frozen, staring at the roses. She didn’t think further questions would be appreciated, not with the look she’d only seen cross Johanna's face in the arena on the TV. So, she left, the door shutting silently behind her.

“Ms. Mason,” a man’s voice called from the living room. Johanna followed it to find President Snow sitting at the small table, two peacekeepers by his side. He had already helped himself to tea. “Take a seat. I have a very appealing proposition for you.”

Johanna ran a nervous hand through her pixie-cut brown hair and guardedly sat in the seat opposite the president. “Would this be the type of proposition a past Victor may caution a fresh one against?”

“Are you referring to the conversation you had with Mr. Odair when he thought no one could hear?”

Johanna chuckled, “Oh, I’m sure he knew you could hear; idiots don’t become Victors. He just didn’t care.”

Snow took a sip of tea and said, “Well, I can tell you that while I may not care about something like that, he cares enough about his friends in District 4 to accept this offer.”

“And what would that offer be, exactly?”

“Finnick won when he was only fourteen, so we waited two years for decency’s sake to begin anything. But you are certainly of age. Actually, I believe you will be turning seventeen over the course of this tour on which you are about to embark.”

“Of age for what? Stop beating around the bush!” Johanna snapped. The peacekeepers’ hands sprang to their weapons, but Snow held out a hand to stay them.

“Ms. Mason, do you have any idea how popular you are in the Capitol? How much so many people are willing to pay for a night—an hour—of your company?”

“You’d better not be implying what I think you’re implying--”

“A very small percentage of your earnings will go into your Victor’s winnings. The rest is used to fund the Games, pay gamemakers, build and run arenas, pay stylists and the like, etc. Those things are very expensive, and you, like most other victors, are a commodity,” Snow told her sternly.

“Ew, God!” Johanna gasped. “Don’t you say that. That’s disgusting. How old are you, like, seventy? Besides, I have no interest in selling my body in such a way to support the finances of these Games that ruin lives.”

“Please, it’s not I that has interest, just so many of my rich citizens. And I assure you, very very few Victors do this to support the Games.” He took another sip of tea and looked into the cup disdainfully. “They do it to protect their families, friends… the people they love. Have you ever heard of Haymitch Abernathy? The second Victor from District 12, the only one alive. His actions were not the sort of thing we in the Capitol smile upon, and do you know what happened to him?”

“He’s a drunk,” Johanna sneered.

“Yes, he is. Because he has lost everything to his foolishness.” Then, the president stood, handed the teacup to one of his peacekeepers, and picked up his cloak from the back of the chair. He spoke as he draped it over his shoulders and clasped in at his throat. “You will have until the conclusion of the Victory Tour to think about it, but I know you will choose wisely and accept this role. I would hate to see your friend there—Park, was it?—end up like Haymitch’s mother, brother, and girlfriend. Your family and friends as well. Good day.”

Johanna sat, speechless, as Snow and his men left her house. She didn’t even mind or question that they took her teacup.


	3. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johanna's Victory Tour draws to a close, and she has a very important decision to make.

Shiny. That is how Johanna would describe District 1. Their obsession with jewels, perfumes, decorative trinkets from tapestries to music boxes and the like does not stop at their economy. The entire square seemed to glimmer with reflective surfaces everywhere, more chances for the lovely citizens to catch a glimpse of their own reflections. Hair like sunshine, eyes like emeralds, skin like a summer breeze… why wouldn’t they want to stare at themselves all day?

But as hard as they tried to pretend they were the Capitol, the District wasn’t fooling Johanna nor anyone else. The citizens looked up at her where she stood in front of their justice building and cheered. “You fought valiantly!” they cried. “Such a strong Victor!” But Johanna could see that they hated her. They tried to remain unemotional over their losses and celebrate the Games like that Capitol they love so much, but she wasn’t buying it. 

She had no time to feel sorry for these people, trapped a step away from luxury, able to taste that life but never able to live it. Her mind was focused on one thing: the feast that would be held in her honor the next day in the Capitol. Snow would be expecting an answer to his offer.

“I don’t know what to do,” she muttered to the avox who was her attendant in her old Training Center room. They arrived a bit early, and she was to stay there until it was time to prepare for the feast at the president’s mansion. “I love my family. I cannot lose another brother to the Capitol. I can’t. And then there’s Park as well… But I am no one’s sex slave. I couldn’t bend to his whim even if I wanted to. Finnick may be a flexible sapling, but like it or not, I’m full-grown, tall and covered in stiff bark. If I bend, I’ll break. I’ll die before I allow myself to be used.” Johanna pressed her face to her knees, but did not cry. “Some birthday week this turned out to be.”

The avox then sat next to her on the bed, putting a hand to her shoulder. Johanna looked up, and the avox held up seven fingers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The avox gave a smile and wave as if she were Johanna on tour and then held up the number seven again. 

Johanna gasped, “District 7! Tonight’s not the end of the tour. I still have another day to decide before it’s officially over in my home District. Thank you, avox, but I don’t know how much of a help that really is. One day will only give me more time for the anxiety to stew.”

The avox stood and shrugged as the door opened and Johanna’s prep team rushed in to prepare her for the feast.

“Has anyone ever told you?” the colorful Capitol man Johanna was dancing with later that night asked her. “You have such a… ferocity. Like your swinging axe, you are beautiful, yet sharp and deadly. It is a wonderful combination.”

Johanna’s stomach churned, but luckily, her escort was there to save her. He was a tall, lanky young man named Junil who was covered head to toe in black. His clothing was made up of patches of different types of fabric with different textures and patterns. His small top hat and gloves were wrapped in black gems and ribbons. Johanna felt like he hadn’t stopped following her since the Reaping and had taken to referring to him as her Capitol shadow. “I’m so sorry,” he said to the man, taking Johanna’s arm, “but President Snow has requested the presence our lovely Victor.”

“Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, then!” the Capitol man laughed. He took Johanna’s hand and, bowing, planted a kiss on it. “Congratulations on your Victory, Johanna.”

Johanna sneered and rolled her eyes, following her escort. If my shadow precedes me, she thought with dread as they entered Snow’s study, the light is in the past. 

The president was sitting patiently at his desk. “Ah, Ms. Mason. Take a seat. Junil,” he said before the escort could leave. “Stay, won’t you?”

“Of course, sir,” he said, standing to the side of the desk, almost next to Snow’s paintings of jabberjays. In lighter context, Johanna would have laughed at their resemblance, for unlike the jabberjays, Junil had always been a pleasure--despite his unfortunate occupation of readying her District’s children for death. 

“So, Johanna,” Snow began. “You are quite popular, being the only living female Victor of your district. Have you given any thought to our little discussion two weeks ago?”

Johanna pushed back her short hair, which she’d pulled out of it’s painful and ugly style long ago. “I have, but I don’t quite have an answer yet.”

“That’s disappointing,” Snow sighed. “I thought I made it clear you had only until the end of your tour to give me an answer, Ms. Mason. Your tour is over. I need your verdict.”

“No, it isn’t over until the celebration in my home district--”

“No, my dear. It’s over now. Tell me if you would like to take this offer or I will have to assume you decline.”

“I can’t have one more day to think about it?” she asked a bit too harshly. “I mean, this a pretty big decision. I can’t talk to my family one more time first?”

Snow grinned and pressed a button on his desk. “Of course you can. You can talk to them right now.”

Fear flooded Johanna’s mind. “What was that. What do mean? They aren’t here, are they?”

“Not to worry. They aren’t here, no. That would be ridiculous,” Snow said very matter-of-factly. “We should be expecting a call very soon.” 

“Sir,” Junil said tentatively, “what call?”

Just then, a ringing sounded throughout the study, bouncing off the tall walls of windows--through which one could see a vast rose garden--and echoing ominously into Johanna’s ears. 

The president pressed another button on the desk, and the holographic display to his left activated, showing a peacekeeper with graying hair and jet-black eyes standing in what Johanna was horrified to see was her family home in District 7. “Hello, sir,” the peacekeeper said.

“Yes, hello, Thread, how are things at the Mason estate?” Snow asked, mockingly.

“Very well, sir. We have the boy here, as you requested.”

Snow smiled, but Johanna didn’t see the unnatural redness of his lips; she was too focused on the sobbing in the background, eyes fixed on the screen. “Would you bring him here, then? Thank you.”

The peacekeeper shoved Johanna’s older brother, Thompson, into view of the camera. His faced bore a large, bloody mark near his temple, barely missing his eye. “Johanna? Johanna is that you?” he sputtered.

“Yes, I’m here,” she said to his image, trying to remain calm.

“Johanna, what’s going on?” he asked with a desperation in his voice she had never heard anyone in her family display, her family who valued strength above all else. “These peacekeepers, they came to the house just a few minutes ago. They took Dad. They gave us all a few hits with their clubs, then knocked him out and just dragged him away. Mom lost it, said if they took him it wouldn’t be long before they came for the rest of us. Please, Johanna, we haven’t done anything. If you know what this is about, you have to stop it.”

“Oh, Thompson,” Johanna whispered. “I can’t. You have no idea what they’re demanding of me.”

Thompson scoffed, “Oh, sure, Johanna. Typical. You don’t think of anyone but yourself, you know! You little bitch! You’d let them do this to us? What if they take me and hurt me, huh? You want mom to lose another son?”

“Thompson, you don’t understand--”

“Wow. For someone you was offered up as tribute, you sure don’t know a thing about sacrifice.”

And just like that, her brother was pushed from view and replaced by the peacekeeper. She called after her brother, but both Snow and the peacekeeper ignored her.

“Good work, Thread,” Snow said. “Keep this up, and you may be expecting a promotion.”

“Thank you sir,” he said with a salute. “Good day.”

Snow nodded and cut the call. He looked at Johanna with a tilted head and serpentine smirk. “So, Ms. Mason. Have you decided yet? Would you like to make a small sacrifice for the sake of your loved ones, or return to your district, allow them to be tortured, and live knowing you caused their pain?”

Junil leapt to Johanna’s side. “It’s ok. Just choose what you feel is right. Don’t let his twisting of words warp your view of the situation. Your life is your own to do with what you like.”

At this, Snow cracked a laugh for reasons Johanna couldn’t quite place. It didn’t seem to be only for the weakness of Junil’s words, but at the moment, Johanna didn’t care. He could laugh over whatever he damn well pleased.

That fateful “No” was on the tip of Johanna’s tongue... but Park. Just imagining what that black-eyed peacekeeper would do to her tied her stomach up in knots and tightened her chest. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

Snow grinned. “Lovely.”


	4. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johanna, for the sake of the people she cares about, begins her duties as a Victor.

Johanna and Park had been sitting on a high branch of a tree for near twenty minutes, and Johanna hadn’t yet spoken a word. 

“Jo?” Park prompted. “Jo, I can see that something’s bothering you, but the point of coming up here is to talk about it. If we aren’t going to do that, I have to get to work.”

“I know,” Johanna sighed. “I’m sorry for keeping you, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“That day before the tour, Snow came to my house and offered me something. I didn’t want to take it, so he gave me until the end of the tour to decide. When that time came, he threatened you and my family, so I had to accept.”

Park’s hand on Johanna’s arm grew icy and her face pale. “That’s why they took your dad?” Johanna nodded, face steely to betray no emotion. “What did he offer you?”

Now, Johanna’s breath shook with the exhale. “A very horrible deal. I can’t tell you what he’s asking of me—you’d hate me if you knew—but you need to know that I agreed to it for your protection, ok?”

“Of course,” Park said, and opened her arms to hug Johanna. Jo squeezed her tightly and gave her a kiss.

“I have to go, now,” she said, looking up at the sun. “I’ll be in the Capitol for a few days. Stay safe.”

“You really can’t tell me what you had to agree to? If it was for my sake, you don’t think I should know?”

“No,” Johanna told her firmly. “I’ll see you in a few days. Good bye.”

On the train, Johanna travelled with the other Victors of Seven who had appointments that week. For efficiency, Victors in this situation used the trains that brought their District’s product to the Capitol. And since those shipments were fairly regular and Johanna wildly popular, she was told to expect herself leaving Seven every Sunday morning at seven-thirty and arriving home at one in the morning on Thursday. Sunday night through Wednesday morning were spent in the Capitol. 

Her fellow prostitutes were, of course, all men as she was the district’s only female Victor. Almost all Victors do this sort of thing, but not all have to go down to the Capitol every week, so there were only three on the train that day. The most recent was a young man of 23 named Asher who had been Johanna’s mentor. 

“Hey,” Asher said, joining Johanna at her spot by the window. “This is your first time doing this, isn’t it?”

“Yyyep,” she responded. “Almost didn’t take the fucking thing, the deal, that is.”

“Really?” Asher asked, though he wasn’t surprised, having known Johanna and prepared her for her Games. “Once Snow told me what could become of my loved ones, I accepted in a heartbeat. But you were never that attached to your family, were you? You Masons are rather stoic folks.”

“Not stoic, strong. Stoic people bear their hardships without complaining or trying too hard to fix it. Strong people do whatever they can to make their lives better,” she snapped. “And you’re right, I’m not doing it for my family. While I do care about them, I don’t care enough to sell myself like this. I’m… I’m doing it for Park, mostly.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I came over here to say that I don’t want you to think of me as your mentor anymore. You’ll be mentoring next year, so we are peers now, equals.”

“Ha!” Johanna laughed dryly, “I know. Damn, I feel bad for those unlucky fucks that get reaped. Have you found, in your experience, that mentors want their tributes to win so that they live or so that they can relieve them of the duty of mentoring?”

“Both,” Asher chuckled. “So, thanks for winning.”

When the train pulled into the station in the Capitol, it was time to stop pretending they weren’t there for a purpose. As Capitol workers opened the other cars and began unloading the lumber and paper goods, the Victors were met by a group of officials with schedules for each of them. 

“See you, Johanna,” Asher said, walking away with his official. “And good luck.” 

“Mason?” one of the officials said, a woman in her thirties who looked relatively normal but for her purple skin. “Come with me.” 

The woman led Johanna up to an apartment in a classy part of the city—not that the Capitol had slums, exactly. From the windows, which filled the entire west-facing wall, she had the most amazing view of the mountains. The curtains and furniture were very lavish: smooth wood tables and chairs with detailed carvings, the softest fabrics for the curtains and bedspread, roughly cut stone bases or edges on several pieces, and a beautiful rug with an elaborate pattern of swirls and flowers. Nearly everything was black but for accents of blue and deep red. 

“My name is Amalthea, by the way. I should have said earlier,” the official told her as she pulled pieces of clothing from her bag. “Now, your first appointment isn’t for an hour. Some clients will want to meet you at your own place, one of the apartments we have set aside for our desired Victors, but others, like this man, will want it to be in their own homes. 

“This apartment belongs to the asshole who thinks I’m a product to be purchased? No, not even purchased. I’m a rental.”

“Young lady,” Amalthea snapped. “You had better drop the attitude before he comes home, because he’s expecting you to be here because you want to. Contrary to what you may believe, your clients aren’t monsters; they don’t want to feel like they’re raping you--”

“Even though they are.”

“—so if you have a seductive bone in your body, I suggest you find it and channel it. Also, this asshole, as you so eloquently put it, is a friend of my sister’s, and I would hate for your poor performance to be taken as a sign of incompetence on my part and therefore reflect badly on her.”

“That’s a lot of connections you’re drawing there,” Johanna sneered. 

Amalthea sighed, “Please, just put these on and get yourself ready.”

Johanna grudgingly took the clothes from Amalthea. Although the official gestured to the bathroom, Johanna dropped the pile on the bed and began stripping right there, just to piss her off. Slipping on the clothes Amalthea brought, Johanna saw that they included a short petticoat that reached her knees and gave volume to the strapless dress that went over it. Over that went something that seemed like an oddly misshapen vest with more laces than she knew what to do with. Amalthea explained it was a corset meant to be worn on the outside and helped her get it on. It consisted of an underbust portion that laced closed in the front and was tightened in the back and wide straps like those one would find on a tank top but fancier. The entire thing did a fine job of shrinking her waist and framing her breasts. There were no shoes. All of it was white. 

“You don’t think I look a little out-of-place?” Johanna wondered, glancing around at the black that surrounded her. 

“Nonsense, you look absolutely stunning,” Amalthea assured her and took a small brush from her bag. “Well, you will once we fix your hair. And your client requested this outfit from your list--”

“My list?”

“—as many will. Each Victor who does this has a closet full of outfits in their apartment that clients can request from when making the appointment or during the session if you meet there.” She brushed through Johanna’s short, spikey hair, trying to make it presentable. “There, that’s as good as you’re getting. Now, you have a while before he arrives to prepare yourself. I hate having to say this, but if your clients aren’t satisfied, your agreement isn’t satisfied, and your loved ones no longer protected. So at least pretend to enjoy yourself so that your client can enjoy himself. I’ll come to collect you later. Have fun!” 

Amalthea then left the apartment, locking the door behind her. Johanna could easily unlock it from here and run. It was just a normal apartment door lock. But if she did, Park would be killed. Tortured first in all likelihood. So Johanna found a seat by the window and waited. 

The time passed more quickly than she was expecting, because before she knew it, she could hear the door being unlocked and opened. But she didn’t turn from the window until she heard him speak. “You can shut those drapes.” The voice was a familiar one. With dread, she turned to see Junil—all in black, as always—by the door. He flipped a switch that illuminated the room with candles. 

“With all the black, I should’ve known this place was yours,” she said, trying to mask her disgust with sweetness. She had to pretend to want this. 

As she drew the curtains, he walked up behind her and placed a hand on either side of her waist. “You look like an angel, glowing white in this demon’s lair,” he whispered into her ear. 

Johanna spun between his hands to face him and placed her hands on his arms. “I do love your decorating. You know, because you were always wearing black and following me around, I thought of you as my Capitol shadow.”

“Ooh,” Junil grinned, “I like the sound of that. Honestly, I actually didn’t have to spend so much time around you. Most escorts don’t, and I may have under-attended the boy. But you are so beautiful.” His hand stroked the side of her face, and Johanna did her best to grin through the pain of remembering her district partner, Noah, who fought and died with honor. “You know, part of me wanted you to win just so this would be possible. And I went to great lengths to book your first appointment.”

“Did you, really?” Johanna whispered as he leaned closer to her. It was sickening to remember the way Snow had laughed when Junil told her she didn't have to agree to this. He kissed her, gently but with passion, and led her to the bed. Before Johanna knew it, she was lying down, and he was above her. 

“Have you ever done this, Johanna? Had sex, that is,” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I mean, with a man.”

“Oh, then no,” Johanna said. The thought of Park strengthening her sense of purpose. 

“Well, it’s pretty fun, I promise,” Junil said and continued to kiss her, his lips making their way down her neck and shoulders, his hands everywhere.

When it was all over and Amalthea returned to pick Johanna up, Junil gave her one last kiss and winked. “I’ll certainly be seeing you again, Jo.”

“I look forward to it,” she said with a smile and left. When the door shut behind her, a wave of relief crashed over her. How dare he? she thought, finally able to let go of the facade. That little shit. What had happened to the Junil who told her to just do what she felt was right back in the president’s mansion? What happened to the Junil who was always so sweet and understanding? He never cared about her. He just wanted her to win so he could fuck her.

“I can’t believe that fuckshit bitch,” she told Amalthea when they reached Johanna’s Victor’s apartment. 

“Language!” she scolded.

“Are they all that creeptastic?” Johanna spat as she threw off the white dress and pulled the most normal-looking pajamas she could find out of the drawer. “I had better not have any more tonight!”

“No, none till tomorrow,” Amalthea said. “But you did well with him.”

“Pfft, I feel bad for your sister, being friends with that dirtbag” she laughed, burying herself in the forest green covers of her bed. Now that she was comfortable, she was able to look around and appreciate the decorative axes that lined the walls; a nice touch. “I thought I knew him before, but now, I can’t see why anyone would want to be friends with the guy!”

“They’re more like co-workers, actually,” Amalthea said, slightly offended. But it was late, and she was too worn out to correct the girl’s manners. “My room is just next door if you need anything. Good night.”

The rest of Johanna’s Capitol days continued in a similar fashion. She detested each and every one of her clients—even the women, who were nice-ish breaks from the men--but put on the seductive show for the sake of pleasing them. 

Wednesday afternoon, Johanna was more than overjoyed to get back on the train. But when the happiness of being on her way home wore off, the exhaustion and sad realization that this was going to be repeated every week for as long as they wanted her took over. She didn’t want to be around the others, so she hid in one of the now-empty cars that had carried lumber on the way there. She curled up between empty racks that still smelled of freshly sanded one-by-three. 

I belong here, she told herself. I’m just another product of District 7, ready for the Capitol.


	5. No One's Slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johanna continues her work in the Capitol, but at a certain point, it all becomes too much. A violent reaction means certain pain but possible freedom.

There was a sadness in Johanna deeper than she had ever felt before. She had been visiting the Capitol for over a month now, and each week made her feel worse, dirtier, weaker than the week before.

“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to do this for, Park,” she said, having explained finally what exactly it is she had been forced into. The two girls were lying on Johanna’s bed in her mansion. Johanna missed this, just being with someone she loved. That’s what beds should be used for, not being blackmailed into fucking those Capitol freaks. Park spent a lot of time in the mansion, even when Johanna was gone. It was much nicer than normal District 7 houses, obviously, and Johanna wanted Park to be able to enjoy it whenever she wanted.

“Hey,” Park said, “I know. I know it’s horrible, and I know that you are making this great sacrifice to protect me and your family, but I also know this: you are so strong. Stronger than me. I wouldn’t have lasted that first week of being in the Capitol, much less the Games. Yeah, those things, remember? You are a survivor. Watching them, watching you, I could not have been more proud. You can do it. I know you can.”

“Shut the fuck up, Park!” Johanna snapped. “You know nothing! The Games are nothing like they seem on TV, so don’t be telling me you’re proud of me. And the Capitol... Goddamnit, you have no fucking idea how shitty it makes me feel just to be there. The fucking train ride alone gives me nausea now because I know what comes once we get there, and then I have to go and act like I like it, like I want to be there, and it’s just--” Johanna stopped, seeing the hurt that twisted Park’s face.

“I’m sorry….” Park whispered, recoiling.

“No,” Johanna said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t yell at you like that. It isn’t your fault. I’m just a little on edge. I got a message from Snow yesterday is all. He said I’m not being convincing enough; people aren’t satisfied with me, because I seem too fake. And I’m like, well, what do they expect? Do they think I’d honestly want to do this shit?” She sighed, accepting Park’s comforting hand on her shoulder. “Anyway, he said… he said if I continue to give off a defiant and reluctant impression, he’ll take Thompson like he took my dad.”

“Jo… I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”

Johanna turned to Park urgently, taking her hands in hers and looking deep into her eyes. “Park, you have to promise me something. Promise me that you’ll watch your back while I’m in the Capitol. If you see anything strange at all—increase in Peacekeepers near you or your house, Peacekeepers following you, even Peacekeepers coming to your door to take you away—you run. If anyone tries to hurt you, promise me you’ll run as far away as you can. Climb the trees and travel through the branches if you have to, and at night if possible. They can’t follow you as easily like that. Get over the fence and escape into the wilderness. Hide anywhere you can.”

“Johanna… do you really think they’ll hurt me?”

She nodded gravely, “I’m trying. I swear. But I know I’m not going to last long.”

“Okay,” Park said plainly, acceptingly. “I promise. I’m going to get out of here at the first sign of trouble.”

Relieved, Johanna leaned in and kissed Park. “Thank you.”

With the mood lightened, Park kissed Johanna back, and the two made out for a while before she said, “You know, I heard an interesting story the other day at work.”

“Mm-hm?”

“Get this: after the annual check on District 13—you know, the one they broadcast on the news to show that it’s still radioactive, so we can’t start rebuilding it?--some people are saying they think it’s all fake. They think District 13 is still alive.”

“What?” Johanna half-laughed, disbelieving. 

“I know, I think it’s ridiculous too. They’re going off this one mockingjay that supposedly flies in the corner of the screen. I admit, the odds of a bird flying in the same exact spot like that every time they go to film there is pretty unlikely, but who remembers it that well year after year enough to notice something like that? District 13 probably is completely obliterated, but it’s a fun story nonetheless. We could all use a bit of fantasy.”

Johanna sighed, wishing on the impossible. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be great. Say,” she joked, “if you do end up having to run, go to Thirteen. I’ll meet you there.”

“It’s a date,” Park grinned, and the two continued with their fun. 

The very next week, Johanna found herself, yet again, on the train to the many waiting scumbags of the Capitol. She spent the ride, as she often did, talking to Asher by the window, watching the hills roll by, maybe a glimpse of District 2 in the distance if the weather was nice. For most of the first half of the ride, it seemed to always be raining. Most of the second half was through the mountains as they approached the Capitol. There was a small window of time where District 2 was just visible on the horizon before they got into the mountains and the view was blocked. 

“I think, if I wasn’t born in Seven,” Asher said as they strained to make out the buildings of the district, “I would like to have been born there, in Two. I would definitely not fit in anywhere else, except maybe Four. I’m too violent and forceful to not be a career, and One just seems too sparkly and peppy for me. You’d probably fit in in Two too.”

Johanna laughed, “Hey, anywhere where I’d get to kill something and get paid would be fine by me. Peacekeeping from Two or fishing in Four.”

“So, you’d also not mind living in Ten raising livestock?”

“Oh, please, the people in Ten are wimps. At least the two I met. You saw them, back then,” Johanna said, referencing her Games. “They hated killing. Fools got attached to their animals and felt wrong when the time came to slaughter. I’m sure the older ones are better, but these kids… I’m not surprised they didn’t last long.” 

They soon reached the Capitol and, joining the officials who managed their schedules, went their separate ways. However, Asher and Johanna met again slightly earlier this week than the train ride home. Late Tuesday night, Amalthea told Johanna to ready herself in her own apartment, the place with her closet of sexy costumes, the forest-green bedding, and the walls lined with axes. “It’s a very very special night tonight!” she cheered, bouncing around Johanna and shuffling through the outfits in the closet. 

“Yeah? How’s that?” Johanna grumbled. 

“Well, for one, you won’t be alone with the client, Ash--” she was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Oh! That’ll be him!” Amalthea shuffled over to the door and opened it for Asher. He had come dressed and ready and without his official. Clearly, they trusted him, being more experienced, to take care of himself. He was wearing some very intense-looking combat boots, tight short shorts, a loose pirate-style shirt, and gloves, all of which were black. 

“My, don’t you look dapper,” Johanna giggled. “The fuck did they ask you to wear?”

“Eh, once you’re at this for a while, things like this start to seem less and less weird by comparison.”

“Comparison with other requests or the clients?”

“Both!”

Amalthea emerged from the closet with what may be considered clothes in an alternate dimension. “Here we are!” she sang. “Now, go put it on. We haven’t got forever.”

As usual, Johanna changed right there instead of out of sight—the only small act of rebellion she could afford. Stripping down, she slipped on the strappy ensemble, a mix of black leather and latex that barely covered anything. It was like a bikini and thigh-high socks a wild animal had gotten ahold of. “The fuck?” Johanna wondered, looking down at herself.

“Well, you kids have fun!” Amalthea said, ignoring Johanna’s commentary, as usual. “The client, Ms. Filage, will be here soon. Just so you know, though, I won’t be next door as I usually am. I’m spending the night with my sister and her friends, so if you need anything, call Phina, Asher’s official. She’s not too far. Ta-ta!”

“Well, this looks like it’s going to be interesting,” Johanna said with a raised eyebrow as the door shut softly behind Amalthea. 

Asher laughed inwardly, like he knew what Johanna could not see yet, “Oh, just you wait.”

“What? Am I going to hate it?” she pressed, still laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. 

But he was now totally serious. “Yeah. You probably will.”

The humor drained from Johanna, and her eyes snapped to the door when the ominous footsteps approached. It creaked open, and a woman entered, Ms. Filage. “Well, hello, lovelies,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet, though not so bad as Amalthea’s. “Asher, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Oh, yes, hello, Ms. Filage,” he said, giving her hand a kiss. 

“And this is Johanna,” she said, walking towards the girl. “Johanna, I simply loved you in the beginning of your Games. You were so beautiful when you were fragile. Pity that had to change, but at least it got you out of there and here with me.”

“Yes, at least it did,” she said, giving a polite smile, though she already despised this woman even more than she normally would a client. 

“Try to be like that again, dear,” Filage told her. “Fear just suits you… so well.” Johanna shivered, a bad feeling infecting her stomach, tying it up in knots. “So, Asher!” Filage continued running a hand across his chest. “You know what I want. Might you explain it to our friend, here?” She spoke with her lips right in his ear, grazing the skin on some words. 

“The Lady will not be participating tonight,” Asher explained. “As you have likely experienced already, some clients prefer to just watch. But there is something you must remember tonight.”

“Which is…?”

Asher took a deep breath first, but responded in his seductive I’m-with-a-client-now voice. He was very different in this context from the Asher Johanna knew: darker, a stranger. “You belong to me. You must do everything I order you to, or you will be punished. Understand?”

“Excuse me?” Johanna snorted, forgetting where she was and who she was with. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Johanna!” Filage scolded, though she seemed more like she was enjoying it than angry. “That was completely out of line! You do not speak to your master in such a way. Asher.”

At her command, Asher lifted Johanna up easily and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Filage made herself comfortable in an armchair and watched Asher toss Johanna onto the bed. He grabbed her wrists, pinning her down. His eyes begged her to pull herself together and just do as Filage wanted, but she wasn’t having it and continued to struggle.

“Johanna,” Filage reminded her. “You are not the girl who won the Games, keep in mind. You are the girl who was weak and hid from the other tributes. You do not fight back. Submit or you will have to be punished.”

“Asher, get off, I can’t do this!” Johanna said, wriggling to free herself. 

“Tsk tsk, Johanna,” he said. “You are off to a very bad start indeed.”

Filage smiled and watched Asher, who had done this sort of thing for her and other clients many times over the years, expertly flip Johanna onto her stomach and run a hand over her behind. Without warning, his hand came down in a sharp spank. “Yes, perfect!” Filage exclaimed. 

Johanna couldn’t help the involuntary yelps that escaped her lips and hated herself for reverting to this weak version of herself. 

One word per spank, Asher told her, “Remember. You. Are. Mine.” Filage leaned in and gave herself a couple quick fans, clearly enjoying the spectacle. 

“Asher, stop!” 

“Ah ah ah,” he chided her. “The slave does not command the master, Mason. It is quite the opposite, in fact. In the future, if you want something from me, you must beg for it. But that was all the punishment you required at this time. Now, lie on your back.”

Johanna did turn around, but it was because she wanted to and was finally free to do so, not because he had ordered it. Again, he was on top of her in a flash. She could feel something hard pressing against her leg but tried not to think about it. She tried so hard to remove herself from the situation, to mentally escape and let her body do what she couldn’t bare to experience. 

But she couldn’t. When he began peeling away her skimpy costume, she snapped, unable to stand it anymore. “I am no one’s slave!” she shouted. “I am a Victor of District Seven! I won the Hunger Games! I am a survivor, and I am strong!” She rolled out from under him, standing next to the bed, breathing heavily.

“Asher! Control your slave!” Filage demanded, no longer putting up with Johanna’s bullshit. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, lunging for Johanna, but she sprang away, leaping up to an axe on the wall and ripping it down. 

“This! Ends! Now!” she screamed, swinging the axe in every direction. Asher backed out of her reach, and Filage stood, eyes wide. She ran for the door, but was not as fast as Johanna, who pounced, sinking the axe into her leg.

Filage screamed out in pain as she collapsed, and her blood spread across the hardwood floor. “Stop, please!” she pleaded. “I beg of you, spare my life!”

“Yes, that’s it,” Johanna cackled. “Beg! Beg me for mercy!” 

Asher looked on in horror but made no move to stop her.

“Please, please, Johanna! Don’t kill me!” Filage wept. “I’m so sorry! I was wrong! You are a Victor, not a slave!”

“Damn straight, bitch,” Johanna said through clenched teeth. “It’s your lucky day, because I won’t kill you. I’ll just do this…” Johanna stood above the writhing woman and swung her axe like a pendulum. She laughed at the top of her lungs as she left gashes across Filage’s back and legs. She was hysterical, cackling at the Capitol woman's pain.

“Mercy! Mercy!” Filage wailed. But if it was mercy she wanted, Johanna was the wrong one to ask.

Johanna felt a tentative hand touch her shoulder and spun to meet Asher with wild eyes. He looked at her warily, like she was a rabid animal. “Jo… I’m going to call Phina and the Peacekeepers now.” He held the phone in his hand, keeping it far out of Johanna’s reach. He had only to press the call button, and he’d have them on the line, ready to report her. Stop now, and it won’t be so bad.”

“No,” she said. “I’ve already come this far.” With that, she gave the axe a twirl between her fingers and planted it in Ms. Filage’s head, silencing her sobbing and pleading. 

“Damnit, Jo!” Asher pressed call and began talking to someone, saying she had gone insane. 

In a flash, Johanna ripped Ms. Filage’s cell phone from the pocket of her lacey pea coat and burst through the door, sprinting down the hall to the stairs, escaping.


	6. Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johanna flees the Capitol after attacking Ms. Filage.

Johanna, stolen cell phone in hand, sprinted down the stairs of the apartment building and began dialing a number. It was the number for the phone in her mansion back in Seven. As she pressed the ringing thing to her ear, she hoped that Park might just be there. 

She was. “Hello? Johanna Mason’s--”

“Park, it’s me!” Johanna said as soon as Park picked up. She was nearing the bottom floor and began to plan where she would run next.

“Johanna! Hey, I--”

“Run, Park. You have to run. I fucked up. Get. Out.”

“Understood. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Johanna said, and Park was gone, not wasting any time. She wished, more than anything, that she would get away from Seven safely. After that, she wished that they would meet again, but that was not as important as Park’s safety. 

Bursting through the apartment building’s doors, she ran through the streets. This late at night, there weren’t many people out on the rode, but the city was awake, and lit windows bred peering eyes. A barely dressed Victor pounding through the streets did not go unnoticed, and Johanna didn’t expect to. She just wanted to get away, not caring where it was. Jail for torture. Snow’s office for a lecture. It didn’t matter: just so long as it wasn’t someone’s bed. 

Johanna made it to the train station and was overjoyed to see a train parked there. From the Victors who were boarding, she could tell it was bound for District 2. Some cars were being loaded with goods produced in the Capitol, luxuries only meant for the Victors, Mayoral family, Peacekeepers, and extremely wealthy district citizens. She ducked behind a row of bushes and watched for an opportunity to sneak onto the train, but with the few Capitolites who’d been brave and curious enough to follow the running Victor on her tail, time was of the essence. Not to mention the Peacekeepers sent by Asher would be looking for her. 

When the people who had been loading the goods finished and closed the doors, they walked away and joined the Victors, talking to their celebrities before they had to get on and leave for the train to be on schedule. 

It was then that Johanna slipped over and fumbled with the latch. In the dark, maybe they wouldn’t notice her. 

Luckily, they didn’t. She got the door open and closed behind her, safe in the car. The latch wasn’t quite closed like it had been, but either someone would notice it and fix it, thinking they’d just slipped up, or it would go unnoticed, and she’d deal with any related problems later. She didn’t care. She just wanted to get home. 

The ride was rough due to the door clattering the entire time, never fixed after her break-in, but it wasn’t too bad. The thing did fly open once, but as the train slowed to make a turn, she managed to get it closed again. 

As they slowed, approaching District 2, Johanna’s heart sank. What had she been thinking? She’ll be caught at soon as they open the doors. It was nearly morning now and getting lighter out by the minute; she’d have no cover of darkness to protect her. Johanna took a chance and slipped through a door into the next car. This one was empty, but would be cleaned and readied to transport more of District 2’s stone and metal goods. At least, that’s how it was in Seven. 

She continued moving through the cars until she found herself falling into a group of Victors. Johanna froze. She’d gone too far. 

Instead of calling in a Peacekeeper, a tall woman with short blonde hair who Johanna recognized as Lyme walked up to her gently. “Johanna Mason!” she greeted her as she would a houseguest. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Our compliments to your stylist!” Brutus interjected, leering.

“I need to get to the forests outside my district,” she said to Lyme. “They’re after me.”

“Well, honey, you’ve got a long and difficult journey ahead. That’s for sure,” Lyme said. “But you’re in luck.” With that, she slipped her short-sleeved sweater over her head and handed it to Johanna, who gratefully crawled into it. The style of the sweater already gave it a long cut, and since it was made for Lyme’s tall body, it was long enough on Johanna to pass as a dress. “I’ll get you on you’re way.”

Able to relax just a little bit for the first time all week, Johanna followed the woman off the train, well hidden behind her and blending in fine in the crowd of Victors. Most people of Two, like Seven, had brown hair and eyes, and it was the closest district to Two geographically, so Johanna had lucked out. If she kept her face down, maybe no one would recognize her.

“As I’m sure you remember from your visit on the tour,” Lyme said as they walked up to her mansion, “District Two is the largest district and the only one to be not just one city but several villages spread out over the mountain. 

On the wall in Lyme’s study was a large map of the District. This would have surprised Johanna anywhere else, but here in Two, people were simply overflowing with district pride.

“Here on the roads between the villages is where security is lightest,” Lyme explained, gesturing. “Well, it’s fairly light everywhere. No one wants to leave. This is probably one of the few districts where the ‘fences are to keep wild animals out’ ploy is actually true. They don’t expend a lot of energy keeping people in, and when they do, it’s on the village borders, since nearly no one walks on the roads. They take cars, and no one who’s aiming to escape into the mountains unnoticed is going to bring a car with them, because they’d have to leave it on the rode. Rather suspicious. They’d have a search party after them within hours.

“What we’re going to do to avoid the suspiciousness of walking is this: I will drive you most of the way up the rode and let you out at this weak spot in the fence,” she said, pointing to a point on the rode. “You’ll have to hide under a seat or something in the car, though, because 1) you’re recognizable, and 2) they count who enters and exits each village and would notice if I got to the other side without my passenger. Got it so far?”

“Yeah. So, do I crash here till the heat’s off?” Johanna asked.

“On the way here you said you killed a client,” Lyme said,raising an eyebrow. “The heat’s not going anywhere. We leave at six this evening. Not too late to raise suspicion, but you’ll have the night on your side soon enough.” Johanna nodded. “Now, get some rest while I pack you some supplies and find some clothes.”

Johanna tried to take a nap in Lyme’s guest room but couldn’t make herself sleep. She knew her family was being arrested by peacekeepers. She knew Park had tried to run, but she couldn’t know if she was out and okay or captured as well. She knew she would have slim chances of reaching her District, much less running into Park, with the patrols that were surely searching for her and would track her to Two before long.

That evening, Johanna crouched under the back seats of Lyme’s Jeep in a loose long-sleeve shirt, warm jacket, and too-long cargo pants tucked into sturdy boots. The boots were already two sizes too big, after all. But she couldn’t complain. A bag of food and supplies sat above her. 

Lyme stopped once at the gate out of the village and, after half an hour driving down the road, stopped again. 

“Your stop,” Lyme announced.

There was no time to lose. Johanna leapt up and out of the Jeep, bag slung over her shoulder. “Thanks so much, Lyme.”

“Ha! Don’t thank me yet. Now, the weak patch is just there by the post behind the bush,” Lyme told her, pointing. “It should pull away fairly easily, and don't worry: I disabled the electricity in this section long ago.”

Johanna knelt down and heard no hum electricity. Pushing the spiny bush aside, she found an area where the chain link pulled away from the post just enough for a person to slide through.

“Lyme,” she said once safely on the other side. “Do you do this often?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the older Victor said with a wink and drove off.


	7. No One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johanna attempts to journey from Two up to Seven in the hopes of finding at least a few of her loved ones safe, but things don't always go as planned.

Johanna ran through the rocky forests outside of District 2. Moving to the north and at a slight decline, she used the map and compass Lyme had packed her in the sack to stay on course for her home district but remain out of sight. 

Hours after night fell, she settled into a comfortable patch of ground and dug a bit of dinner out of the sack. There wasn’t a lot of food, but most was rather filling stuff. While there was food enough for about a week, but Lyme had told her the journey would take nearly three on foot, so she’d be needing to hunt and gather for herself before long. Eating her small dinner of canned stew amidst the stone and trees in the light of the moon felt eerily similar to her time in the arena. There, there had been great slabs of stone and columns—some intact and tall, others fallen—like the ruins of beautiful buildings, as well as wooded areas. The only thing this wilderness was missing was the rushing river that served as the tributes’ water source. 

But Johanna did not feel uncomfortable with the similarity. That was an arena she’d survived. If she were fleeing through a desert, then maybe things would be different. If she were fleeing through a desert, she would not be able to keep out the memories of her brother’s struggles. That is what would have hurt her. Then there was the thought of Park, and knowing that every step she took towards her home was a step to helping her pushed Johanna on. She hoped nothing had happened to her, that the peacekeepers hadn’t showed up at her door ready to take her away and punish her for Johanna’s actions.

The thought turned the stew to ash in Johanna’s mouth. She stashed the empty can under some rocks where no one would see it and kept walking. She wasn’t going to waste time on sleep when she wasn’t even that tired. 

Over a week later, Johanna Mason was still walking strong. The food Lyme had packed her was long gone, but finding food out here was easier than the arena she’d just left. The only real problem was the cold. The clothes she had were pretty warm, but it was winter, and although District 2 was much farther south than 7, the chill still had a nasty bite. At least the altitude was not incredible, even if it was in the mountains. It wasn't as high as the Capitol, at least, and even that wasn’t at the peak of the range once known as the Rockies. 

Johanna hugged herself over the jacket and rubbed her arms to warm them up, trudging on. At least it wasn’t snowing. 

But suddenly, she heard a noise like cars and ducked behind some trees. She wished then that it had been snowing—something to burrow under and hide better. Peaking out, she saw three rovers with peacekeepers patrolling the flat path. She was much closer to it than she was supposed to be, according to her map, and well within their sight. She cursed under her breath, afraid to move. The peacekeepers looked around with binoculars, clearly searching for her. A couple held up odd instruments—a rectangular screen with handles on the sides--and she wondered what they could be trying to track. Her scent? Sounds? She held her breath and rubbed dirt over her jacket as if it would help at all. 

One of the peacekeepers with the tracking devices called to one with binoculars and showed him the screen. The binoculared peacekeeper then turned directly at Johanna and smiled. He called something she couldn’t make out, but she didn’t need to. It was time to run. The cars stopped, and all the peacekeepers got out, running after her. 

Giving up on stealth now that it was clear they could track her fairly easily and exactly, Johanna up and sprinted deeper into the woods. Nimbly moving over rocks and around trees, she tried to stay in the direction the map told her to move, but her main objective was evading capture. 

When a few peacekeepers leapt out in front of her in ambush, she stabbed one without a second thought and turned towards the other two, ready to kill. But the others had caught up, and she was surrounded. She jumped onto one. Before she could get the knife into the woman’s neck, another shot her in the back with a tranquilizer dart and she fell into darkness. 

Johanna woke up in a bed with pale blue sheets. This was wrong. Her sheets were purple. She rolled out of bed and stood up but immediately fell back down, dizzy. 

“Where am I?” she mumbled from the floor.

Although she wasn’t expecting an answer, one came. “You’re in the Capitol, Miss Mason,” a man said. She looked up. There was a man who looked to be in his early thirties, but if this was the Capitol, he could be much older, and like everyone in this city, he looked ridiculous. “I’m Klaus. The avoxes notified me that you’d woken up a few minutes ago, though I don’t think you were fully conscious until just now. Here, get up.” Klaus knelt down to help Johanna stand. 

“Why was I brought here and not to Seven?”

“The President wanted to speak to you, and he’d rather not travel when he can help it. Also, you are under arrest for murder. Come along.”

Klaus lead her down the hall. The walls were white, dotted with elaborately carved fixtures that held unnaturally bright and long-lasting candles. The carpet was also white as the moon and softer under Johanna's bare feet than anything she'd felt before, like a warm hug and soft whisper of loving words from Park but in carpet form. The air was cool and fresh, smelling faintly of roses. Johanna figured they were in Snow's mansion and immediately found something wrong with everything just out of spite. The candle fixtures were cheap wood. The carpet was probably more expensive than it was worth. The roses masked something fishy, she knew it. Yet as they walked, she still fixed her hair up best she could without a mirror. You want to look nice when you speak with the President, after all. The fact that she was wearing an entirely new outfit didn’t bother her and neither did thinking about how she got into it. None of these people mattered. 

When they came to Snow’s rose garden, Klaus left her and she meandered until she came to a small table surrounded by red rose bushes at which Snow was drinking tea. “Take a seat, Miss Mason.” 

Johanna walked towards the chair hesitantly at first but then sat with great confidence and demanded, “What’s happened in Seven? Is my family okay? Is Park?”

“It’s touching how you care so much for them now,” Snow said, grinning, as he set down his cup. “You didn’t seem to care about them very much when you killed one of your clients and ran away to Two.” 

“I’ve always cared about their safety! But I respect myself too much to have allowed that train wreck to continue. I don’t regret killing that sick woman.”

“Oh, but you will regret it when you hear what I have to say,” Snow said, clearly enjoying the way he made Johanna’s insides squirm and pop and rip at her heart. “You see, the very morning after you killed that woman, when you were safe and happy on the train, peacekeepers went to your family’s and Park’s houses. Your mother and brother were home. They were taken and publicly executed in the square as your crime was announced. Park, however, was not where she should have been.”

A fleck of hope snuck into Johanna’s mind, but it didn’t last very long. 

“In her place,” Snow continued, “the peacekeepers captured and executed her parents and cousin, who, as you know, lives with them. Cute little girl. A pity, really. Naturally, a search was ordered for Park—can’t have anyone escaping Capitol discipline, can we?”

“No,” Johanna muttered, though she knew she was lying to herself. “That search didn’t find her, did it? She got away, I know she did. She’s probably near Three by now. Maybe even Six.”

“You and I both know it takes longer than this to get to Six from Seven on foot. Three, I’d buy… if we hadn’t caught her already.”

Johanna jumped up from her chair, furious. “You’re lying! None of my people are dead. Park’s still on the run. You’re making all of this up to scare me back into prostitution!”

“Unfortunately, no,” Snow said, unphased by her outburst. He took another sip of tea and a bite of cookie. “We captured Park barely eight miles out from the District. You see, it may be easy for a Victor like you to navigate and survive in the Wilderness, but for most civilians, it isn’t easy at all. She was poorly supplied, already injured, and not all that good at evading capture once the peacekeepers determined her location.”

“That can’t be,” Johanna said, mostly to herself. She slumped back into the chair, discouraged. “But she’s so good in the woods. She’d climb trees and get away if she knew she was being pursued. She’s watched the Games every year just like everyone else; she’d know what to pack for a long journey. We trained together since we were ten just in case one of us was reaped. She could have won the Games better than I did. She made it, I know she did.”

“If she had had time to pack, maybe. But she didn’t. It seems she ran a mere ten minutes after getting your call. Not fast enough, it would seem. Broke an ankle fairly early on. At least, that’s what the doctors said as they were torturing her to death.”

Johanna picked up the porcelain teapot and crashed it over Snow’s head. No sooner did the pieces fall to the ground than came the guards, rushing in to help the president, who now had a large gash down the side of his face, and arrest the Victor. “You’re lying! You’re lying! You’re lying!” she cried, and they dragged her away. 

After two years in prison—most of it solitary confinement--Johanna was escorted back to her lonely mansion in Seven. 

“There’s no one,” she said to the walls in the middle of the night. “No one left.”


	8. Epiologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Mockingjay-time as in the prologue. Johanna finishes telling Katniss her story and discovers some new information.

Katniss set a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

Johanna scoffed, “You should be. Even if you don’t love Peeta in a romantic way, be thankful you have that little show you two put on. It protects you. Or at least it did. Not much of that going on now, is there? What with the strangling and such.”

“Yeah, not so much,” Katniss said, looking away. Any other day she would’ve been angry at Johanna for bringing that up in such a way, but today, she’d stow it. 

“Soldier Mason.” A nurse walked in, eyes wide.

“They letting me go now?” Johanna demanded. “To the Capitol. You told them I need to go, right Katniss? I need to go so I can help take down Snow. I need him to pay!”

“Calm down, soldier,” the nurse said. “No one’s letting you go anywhere after what happened in your SSC. But… I couldn’t help overhearing your story, and I believe I do have some information you may be interested in hearing.”

“Well, that was incredibly rude of you, but spit it out!”

The nurse took a deep breath. “District 13 takes in a lot of runaways--Katniss, you’ve met Dalton from Ten—and about five years ago, we got a girl from Seven.”

Johanna’s jaw dropped, a tentative smile beginning to form. 

“She appeared as you described,” the nurse said nervously, “and introduced herself as Park Mason.”

“Ha, that bitch,” Johanna said, fully smiling now. “Trusts you enough to take her in and run her life, not enough to know her true last name.”

Katniss knew that wasn’t it but kept quiet.

“Well, Soldier Mason, you, um… you can take some comfort in knowing that Park made it here to Thirteen alive. Snow was likely telling the truth about your families, but he was lying about her.”

“Damn,” Johanna cheered. “She survived in the Wilderness for two whole years before making it here. What does she have scheduled for now? Can I talk to her? No, fuck it. I don’t give a shit what her schedule is, you get her here pronto!” Katniss gave Johanna’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, and the nurse only stared at her with apologetic, pitying eyes. “No,” Johanna whispered, her smile disappearing in an instant. “No! That can’t be! She’s still here, isn’t she? She must be! This is Thirteen for fuck’s sake! Nothing bad ever happens to people here. Your soldiers don’t even fight; you just train!”

“Upon hearing the news of how the 75th ended,” the nurse explained calmly, “Soldier Park was very upset, obviously. She worried for you, knowing you were being tortured in the Capitol. When President Coin approved the mission to rescue you and the other captured Victors, Soldier Hawthorne was the first to volunteer to go, for Katniss’s sake, but Park’s hand went up only milliseconds after. Soldier Mason, she did her part with exceptional skill to get you out of the Capitol, but… she didn’t make it back.”

“It… it was someone I didn’t recognize who came to my room and killed the torturers, who got me out,” Johanna said in a daze. “It wasn’t Park. She wasn’t there.”

“I’m sorry, Soldier Mason. Park was on that mission. I’m sure she would have loved to be the one to retrieve you then, but she must’ve either had duties in other areas of the mission or perished earlier. I am sorry.”

Johanna bunched up the blanket of her hospital bed in her hands and pressed it to her eyes. She snatched up the bundle that smelled like home Katniss had given her and held it to her nose. “Both of you… go away.”

“Johanna…” Katniss tried.

“I said go away!” Johanna screeched, breathing heavily from the bundle as if to cling to whatever part of Park was left in its scent. 

Katniss got up and left, and the nurse followed after triggering Johanna’s morphling drip, leaving the Victor alone.


End file.
